Ten
by Stormwalker
Summary: Sylia Stingray savors a bittersweet moment of reflection, caught between a joyous celebration and the realization that a chapter in her life--and in her personal crusade--is drawing to a close. As with all my BGC 'fic, this is based on the OAV.


**Ten**

**A short work of Bubblegum Crisis (OAV) fanfiction**

Winner - Second Prize, AnimeFEST! 2002 Fanfiction Contest

* * *

An amused smirk plays at the corners of my lips as I watch this most seemingly unlikely of scenes unfold. Priss stands in the center of a flurry of activity, fidgeting nervously as a number of other young women fuss over every detail of her appearance. An impressive appearance it is, as well; those who have known Priss over the years might double-take at seeing her now... the flowing white dress is better suited to her than many might expect. I feel a slight flush of pride at that, having played something of a role in that as well as most aspects of this ceremony. Nothing of my contribution, however, can account for Priss herself; the dress merely serves to accent her own beauty, which others are taking great pains to make apparent.

For her part, Priss is dealing with her helpless condition rather better than I had anticipated she would... but even so, the agitated look can clearly be read on her face. Concealing her emotional state has never been Priss' forte, and never will be, but her silent tolerance of the whirlwind that has enveloped her makes for an interesting contrast to the raging anger I have so long known. It is yet another sign of something this day and those leading up to it have proven again and again; one of my 'children' has matured before my eyes.

Of course, there is more to be gleaned from this image than simply that realization. For all that the scene revolves around its central figure, the others present have stories of their own to tell. Linna, for example, who is taking every opportunity to tease her closest friend even as she works on arranging her hair. "You know, there's still time to back out of this, Priss," she prods. "Not that I'm saying you should, but you seem so nervous... and it's such a big step you're taking. Do you really want to commit yourself? I always thought you were the independent type."

"Linna!" Nene protests, the humor of Linna's comments lost on her." This is Priss' big day! Just because you have no sense of romance doesn't mean you should try to talk her out of it!" Nene has seemed to be in something of a dream world all morning, so caught up in the romance of the event that one would almost think that she is the one for whom all this has come to pass. Perhaps, in a sense, that is exactly it... she seems almost to be living out one of her own dreams through Priss; Nene has spoken often of her own desires to find a love of true depth and passion. If nothing else, it must at least seem to her a justification of her romanticized view of the world that this day has arrived at all after so many obstacles that have been faced along the way.

Linna laughs. "Oh, but Priss knows exactly what I mean, don't you, Priss?" she counters, a sly look on her face. It is another jab... a joke that isn't a joke. Certainly she is teasing Priss, hoping for the reaction that her friend has so carefully not shown... and it is probably a bit of a poke at Nene as well. It is also, though, a way for Linna to express her own misgivings about the step that Priss is taking. She has developed something of a cynical view of romance over her years of short-lived, transient relationships. Though she never lacks for a boyfriend, one wonders if Linna has ever had a love.

Likewise, Priss had once closed off her heart... though for different reasons. Now, though, she only gives her friend a wry smile." I'm just ready for this to be over with. I've never been this nervous in my life." It is an unusual admission from her... this is someone who has spent most of her adult life and even some time before that on stage, baring her tempestuous soul for all to see in her music, defying any and all to challenge her, to tell her she is wrong. I wonder at such words from her, at the emotions it must take to produce them. I have never known romantic love, have never faced such a moment, so I can only imagine... and yet, I see so much reflected in Priss' eyes that it is almost overwhelming even to me.

I join the conversation, as much to distract myself from such thoughts as anything else. "If I recall correctly, Priss, you are the one who insisted on all of this." I smile slightly as I remind her... this, at least, I have been looking forward to, and even I am not above a subtle poke at the bride. It is, after all, tradition.

"I know, I know," she groans, allowing a touch of annoyance to show through the calm, refined front she has been maintaining so surprisingly well. "I got nobody to blame but myself. It's just..." she pauses, searching for words, and I realize that I am about to gain another look at the hidden aspect of Priss' soul. "...I've never started anything right in my life, Sylia. This is too important for me to screw it up, y'know? I... I want to do it right. I want it to be perfect. Just this once."

With her words, images flash in my mind; I remember our first meeting, a perfect example of the kind of start Priss is looking to avoid. I can still clearly see the look on her face as I stood over her, having knocked the knife out of her hand, and offered her a chance to do something productive with all her pent-up rage. I remember being struck by the depth of her passion, even in furious anger, and by the force of her will. These are still with her today, the very characteristics which have born her through seemingly endless trial over the years and which have made this day possible. Now, she has come full circle, and that beginning has finally come to an end. She moves on to the next chapter in her life... and now so must I.

"It will be, Priss," I assure her. "I'll be sure of that." With those words, I stand. "Now, if you will excuse me a few minutes, I must see to some things." It is not completely untrue... fthough the entire affair is most competently organized--my work, after all--there are certain matters I should look into. More than that, though, I realize that I need some time to myself, to prepare myself for what is about to be.

As I slip out the door and into the hallway, I wonder at the sudden emotion that rises up within me... and at my unpreparedness for it. How is it that I am able to so easily predict the feelings of the others, and yet am so surprised by my own? I have known for some time what this day, this ceremony, would represent, and all that would be bound up in it, and yet only now do I find myself facing the emotional realities of that understanding.

For all that this day is a beginning, the start of a new and hopefully happier life for Priss, it is an ending as well. I could almost certainly convince Priss to remain with the Knight Sabers; in all likelihood, I would not even need to ask. I think, though, that it is better this way. Priss has embarked upon a new path in both her personal and professional lives, and I cannot bring myself to ask her to continue to sacrifice for my crusade. She needs to look forward to her future, not back at her past. For all that I might need her, she no longer needs me, except for this one last push out the door.

Truthfully, none of them need me anymore; all of them have found that which they sought, that which first drew them to me... they are ready to move on with their lives. It is a source of great pride for me, in its own way, that I have been able to play a part in their growth and in the pursuit of their dreams. Now, though, comes the bittersweet moment when I must allow them to fly off in their own directions, to follow their own paths, wherever they might lead.

It is the end of the Knight Sabers, the end of the crusade to which I have devoted the better part of my adult life. I will not abandon my work; the struggle against GENOM's abuse of my father's creations will continue, though I will take the battle to less overt arenas. Yet now, at the end of this stage, I find myself looking back rather than forward, and evaluating my accomplishments in terms other than those which I set out to achieve. The battle with GENOM has been a perpetual stalemate, as it must be; the destruction of our corporate nemesis is neither desirable nor within our reach, but we have thwarted the worst of their schemes and maintained the balance of power. Were it for this alone, I would count these past years a success... but I have found greater reward in the Knight Sabers themselves, in the three young women who have been my employees, my comrades-in-arms, and of late even my friends.

I wonder, in this moment, what it must be like for a mother as she watches her daughters leave their home, to see them come into their own, find their places in the world... and though these three are scarcely younger than myself I cannot help but think that it feels like this. I am proud of all that they have accomplished, and of the way they have grown, and of the role which I have been privileged to play... and yet I will be very saddened to see them go.

I am about to turn the corner, headed toward the reception hall to check on preparations, when I see another figure pacing in the hallway; it is one who has become very familiar to me in the last few weeks. Priss should consider herself lucky... Leon McNichol is a very attractive man, and the tuxedo certainly does nothing to detract from his looks, even with the bow tie hanging undone around his neck. The somewhat frazzled look on his face is less flattering, though I allow myself an inward smile at the sight. Leon has always been the picture of composure, from what Priss and Nene have told me of him and from my own observations during the past few weeks. In this moment, however, he is anything but composed, and it is somewhat amusing to see that Priss is handling her nerves better than her husband-to-be.

I consider stopping for a moment to speak with him, then decide better of it. Doubtless he has heard quite enough already... probably more than he would like, considering his rather eclectic collection of groomsmen. Between his partner Daley, who seems to be enjoying entirely too many jokes at Leon's expense, one of Leon's other AD Police friends, and the drummer from Priss' band, the atmosphere in that room must be something to behold. Deciding to spare Inspector McNichol's nerves, I simply greet him in passing and continue on my way.

Again my mind is drawn back to the beginning, this time to the rules I laid down for the Knight Sabers when I first recruited each of the members. Priss was the only one of the three who did not protest the tenth rule... having just lost a love, she had no desire to seek another. It is perhaps ironic then that her breach of that rule marks the end of all that was begun on that day. I have always been better at making rules than enforcing them... it is a tendency that could easily have gotten us all into trouble many times over. Now, though, I am glad of it, for this day could not have come had I been more strict. When I wrote those rules, I truly did not anticipate my relationship with those in my employ to ever become anything more than business; they were useful to me, and I provided them with the opportunities they desired. I am not sure when it was that this began to change... the process was slow but certain.

It occurs to me now that I, too, have changed.

I have no time, however, to dwell on that thought. I find myself caught up in the process of resolving several minor issues, and nearly an hour has passed before I return to the bride's room. I find Priss there by herself, the others having departed for a few moments. It is getting near to time for the ceremony now, and I am thankful for their absence... it gives me a few moments alone with her as the moment she is waiting for draws nigh. Taking an appraising look at her, the work of her bridesmaids now complete, I nod approvingly... if Inspector McNichol is having a difficult time managing his nerves now, his reaction to this sight should be most entertaining indeed. Inwardly I wonder, though, how well Priss is holding up herself... so I ask.

She shrugs, an impossibly inelegant gesture for someone made to look so majestic... but one that is inescapably Priss, regardless." I'm all right," she says. "Don't know why I'm so nervous, though... I haven't been this wound up over something since my first concert." She looks down at herself. "I feel... I don't know, I feel like all of this is too good for me, kinda. Like someone is going to come in here and say I don't belong or somethin'"

I cannot help but smile at that. "This is your day, Priss," I remind her. "You have waited for this, and fought for this, and earned this, and no one will take it from you. Moments like this only come once... try to enjoy it while you have it."

"Oh, I am, I am," she assures me, and there is a hint of embarrassment in her voice. "It's just... well, you know me, Sylia. I hate waitin'. I just want to get on with it. Besides, I'm afraid to move in this dress and all... I'm not used to delicate stuff like this." More images come to mind, of Priss' misadventures--her entanglements with Frederick's and Mason's minions; her battles with the DD, Largo, and the Chang Group's mecha; her treatment of one young reporter's camera--and I have to allow myself a little smile. Is it any wonder that she is unaccustomed to delicacy? "Don't get me wrong," she adds quickly, remembering who bought that dress for her, "...it's beautiful and all. Nene keeps talking about how Leon will pass out when he sees me. It's just... I'm not used to this kinda thing."

I nod knowingly, but before I can respond further Nene and Linna return, looking entirely cheerful and pleased with themselves. A few more minutes of good-natured teasing and idle conversation follow; Linna mentions one of Leon's friends she met at the rehearsal dinner, opening herself up for a few quick verbal jabs from an all-too-eager Priss. Turnabout is fair play, I suppose.

Nene takes the time to look herself over in the mirror once more; she seems satisfied with her appearance, as she should... for all that this is a traditional wedding as the Western customs go, we managed to avoid the usually horrific bridesmaid's dresses that seem to accompany such events. After all, if I must wear one, I will make at least that concession to my own sense of dignity. They are simple, and certainly place us in no danger of overshadowing the bride--if such would even be possible, and in this case it certainly is not--but it is an elegant simplicity, with a beauty of its own.

Of course, I also know why Nene is so concerned with her appearance. Though I do not make it my business, usually, to involve myself in the personal affairs of those around me, it would be impossible not to notice the stolen glances between our resident computer wizardess and my younger brother. Far be it from me to discourage this... if anything, I have perhaps tacitly helped things along; the two are good for each other, I think. Mackie has matured quite a bit in these last years, and I think his feelings for Nene have played some part in that growth. As for Nene... I have often feared that her romanticized outlook on life makes her vulnerable to those who would take advantage of her... with Mackie I can be certain his advances are sincere, and certainly not a threat to the organization. Furthermore, Nene has chosen to continue to assist me in my endeavors, and as her relationship with Mackie develops, it provides a sort of natural cover for her involvement in my affairs.

Mentally I chide myself for such mercenary thoughts. Truly I am happy for both of them, just as I am happy for Priss, and I only hope that their path will be easier than the one taken by those who will be joined today. On that note, however, it is time. Taking a moment to collect myself, I stand, motioning to the others. "This way."

I pause after Nene and Linna have passed out of the room to turn one last time to Priss. "Well, the waiting is over," I say to her softly. "How are you feeling?"

She smiles nervously at me. "...like I could wait a few more minutes." I laugh softly at her response, and she seems to relax a bit. "No, I'm ready. As ready as I'm gonna be, anyway."

"Well, then, let us be on our way." With that, the two of us walk down the long corridor toward the entrance to the church. Again I allow myself some small pride here; it is difficult in Megatokyo to find a venue well-suited to a Western wedding; the decor required to do it properly can only be truly found in a church of a Western faith, and the difficulty is only complicated when the bride is a popular performance artist and the groom's friends comprise most of AD Police. It took some doing finding such a facility that could accomodate a ceremony of this scale, and it was not inexpensive, but as I glance through the doors into the packed sanctuary, I think the results to be quite worth the effort.

"Well, this is it," Priss says softly. Her voice is just short of trembling, though she holds herself stone-still rather than allow her anxiety to show in her bearing. Defiant to the last, I think. I would expect nothing less. The music begins, then, and Nene steps out into the aisle. Unlike Priss, Nene *is* trembling, though one would have to be very near her to notice. Too much nervous energy, I think. I wish that I could see her eyes from here... she will not turn her head, but I know where her gaze will be as she walks that aisle... and where her thoughts are. Such a fanciful mind she has, always dreaming; I am almost surprised to find that a part of me envies her that.

Linna is more business-like about it, as she is with all things, though at this point I can see that even she is starting to become caught up in the emotions of the moment. She has no witty comment for Priss this time, whispering only to herself, "...don't trip, Linna. Just don't trip." Her concern, of course, is legitimate... she did exactly that during the rehearsal. Still, she is smiling, and though it is a tense smile, it is a genuine one.

Now it is my turn to wait... and for perhaps the first time I feel the tension that seems to have infected all of those around me. I run through my mental checklist... everything is in place now; I can see Leon and his groomsmen at the front of the church, waiting for their first glimpse of the bride, a moment which draws nearer with each seemingly eternal second. Linna does not, in fact, trip on her way down the aisle. Everything is going well... why am I so anxious about this? Is it because of my promise, to make this perfect? I take a deep breath to quiet my own nerves. Perfect it shall be.

I take the first step, and the anxieties fall away. It is, I think with a degree of irony, not unlike stepping onto a battlefield in that the anticipation is far worse than the event. Once matters are again placed in my hands, my self-confidence takes over, and my fears are suppressed. As I reach the end of the aisle and move to take my place for the ceremony, my thoughts take a slightly mischievous turn. It is time, now, for that for which so many have been waiting... the appearance of the bride. My eyes turn to Leon, to see his reaction... he is curiously still; it takes only a moment to realize that he is holding his breath.

The music changes, the crowd turns... and Leon's eyes widen in stunned silence as Priss finally makes her entrance. An audible gasp can be heard from most of the men in attendance; many of them have seen Priss before, at her concerts or in Leon's company, but none of them have seen her like this. She is, in a word, radiant; the same presence that gives her performances on stage such impact now lends her an air of majesty. In this moment, she is royalty, and this is her court, and all are subject to her dominion. My smile grows slightly, as I realize that even I, having seen all of this already, am so struck by her appearance. I am proud... of myself for my role in bringing this to be... but more of her, for the growth in her person that makes it possible at all.

If the procession seemed to take an eternity, the ceremony itself passes in a whirlwind... or perhaps it is simply that I am swept along by the flood of my own emotions, which I again find myself curiously unprepared for. A few things, though, make themselves quickly evident. Priss is happy... happier than I believe I have ever seen her. She has wanted this for longer than she would admit, I think... and has needed it longer still.

For myself... I am pleased for her, in a way that I cannot quite put to words... and yet I feel a pang in my own heart, one I have not felt in years past. When I began the Knight Sabers, and even before, I knew the sacrifice I was making, that I would almost certainly live out my years in loneliness. It was something I was prepared for, something I never believed I would ever regret... and regret it I still do not. But in this moment, as vows are given, rings exchanged, and bonds formed which I have little doubt will last a lifetime, the knowledge is painful to me. I will never know this moment... but silently I am thankful to Priss for sharing hers with me.

Then, there is the kiss; it is fairly innocent by comparison to some I have seen at such events, but the passion these two share for each other is undeniable. My gaze turns to Nene, who seems as if she will burst from happiness, and then to Linna, just in time to see her brush a tear from her eye. I have to smile at that, another reminder of how much these young ladies have grown during our time together... and of how much I have come to appreciate them.

The ceremony over, it is time for the reception. Here there is a surprise for almost everyone... how many wedding receptions can boast an appearance by Vision and the Revengers? If the ceremony was traditional, the reception proves somewhat livelier, as is to be expected considering those it is held to honor. Unable to let a concert pass at her own wedding without at least taking the stage once, Priss kicks off the affair with a piece from her upcoming disc. From there, the party starts in earnest, and after ensuring that all is in order I can fade into the shadows to reflect on my own feelings.

It is then that I discover something else... I am weary. It is not so much a physical exhaustion as a mental one... The day has been draining for me, much in the manner that a critical operation might be, and now that the major part of my role is done, I find that the effort has caught up to me at last. Still, there is one more thing which must be done.

It is my intention to seek Priss out, but it is she who finds me instead, in one of the side rooms adjacent to the reception hall. She turns to Leon, excusing herself for a moment, then closes the door behind her, granting us a few moments of solitude. There is silence for a few moments, as we both search for the words; I am about to speak when she shakes her head.

"Don't," she says softly. "Before you say anything, Sylia, I just wanted to tell you... thank you. For everything." She does not have to elaborate; if there could be any confusion about her meaning, it is erased by the tone of her voice and the look in her eyes. It has been five long years since our journey together began, five years of exultant victory and heartbreaking loss now brought to a close by Priss' most triumphant performance of all. I had words for this meeting, things I wanted to tell her as she sets out on her own again, but suddenly my prepared speech seems... insufficient."...you're welcome, Priss," I finally answer her softly. "There are a great many things I could say now... but there is no time. You and Leon have places to be, no?" She smiles and actually blushes a bit at that. "Well, then, I should not keep you." There is more I want to say, more that needs to be said, but there will be other times for that. She may be leaving the fold, but it is not as if she will be out of reach, is it?

She nods slightly, and I realize that she is holding back tears. Then, without warning, she hugs me tightly. For a moment I am still, uncertain how to respond to this spontaneous display, before finally I give in to my own emotions and my arms close around her, holding her closely to myself. "Thank you," I whisper to her. "Now, go... your husband is waiting for you, I'm sure. As is your future."

She holds on for a moment longer before pulling back. "It's hard to let go," she says quietly. "Y'know?" Then, as if with an effort, she turns away... and she is gone.

I know... as certainly as anyone can know anything, I know. For me, this is a day of letting go, releasing all that has been my life for the past five years. Tomorrow will be a day for accepting that which is new, for beginning again. For today... I will remember what has been, and in that I will be content.

End

Author's Notes:

Two years to develop the idea, two hours to write it, two weeks to edit it. Funny how time passes when you're working on an idea sometimes, isn't it?

I first conceived this story with the intention of entering it in the AnimeFEST! fanfiction contest two years back. I quickly decided that it was not feasible, that I could not tell this story in under four thousand words... but I never really put the idea away, either. The story wanted to be told, regardless of whether it was entered in any contest or not, and I knew it was just a matter of time before it finally came out.

At the same time, I was afraid to write it. I don't know why, there was something about this simple concept that intimidated me... a fear that I would not do justice to the scenes in my head, that I would not adequately translate Sylia's voice to the page. I think this is why it ultimately took me two years to even begin writing it.

That said, once I did start to write it, it simply flowed. Two hours to put it to the page.

My initial suspicion proved correct. "Ten", in its full, unabridged version as seen here, is over 4660 words. Short story ideas are rare for me... I tend to conceive stories in the grand scale. Both" Cry of the Phoenix" and "Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Gemini" have grown now to the 85-kilobyte chapter range, meaning the most recent single chapters of those stories are each three times longer than the full length of this one.

Even so, I believe that this is my best work to date. As such, and on the grounds that I so seldom produce ideas suitable to short stories, I decided to enter it in the AnimeFEST contest this year regardless of the fact that I needed to cut nearly seven hundred words out of the second draft to bring the story down to suitable length for that contest. That was a painful process, if ultimately a rewarding one; I am deeply attached to all of my writing, and it was difficult to submit a version of the story which I felt to be less than complete. Now, though, it is my pleasure to present the work as I originally envisioned it.

Many thanks to those few who helped me refine the final draft of this story over the last few days, and also to those who encouraged me to write the story when I despaired of ever putting the images to the page. I hope that you find the results were worth your ever, I hope that you have enjoyed this story as much as I have enjoyed writing and presenting it.

Douglas A. Reeves

06 September 2002

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Supplemental Notes (27 May 2009)

The above notes are those that were attached to the original release of Ten to the Fan Fiction Mailing List (FFML) in 2002. Looking back, I think this is the one piece I have written of which I am unreservedly proud. It's not perfect... but it *is* fully realized from how I envisioned it, and that's something that has often lacked in my work. At any rate, I hope you've enjoyed the story. No changes (except correcting a couple of typos) have been made from its original release version, so it is now as it was.

Comments are welcome, as I'm always looking to improve, and I may implement such suggestions in future writings... but this story will remain as it is.


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